
Page Five 




"^--^^^.k^ 



Page Six 



MOTHER^fMlNE 



2?y x/ohrL y^edet^ic 7~/ess^l 



Page Seven 




Page Eight 




Page I en 



MOTHEFC 




Mine 



^ 



©. 



John Frederic Hesse I 



\^ 



Published by 

Xne Municipal Proolems PuDlisning Company 

Champaign, Illinois 



Page Eleven 



;'=5\-^. 






Copyright. 1921 

By 

JOHN FREDERIC HESSEL 



Pase Twelve . . ,_„, 

MAR 14 1921 
0)CU60S889 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedication 19 

Foreword 25 

His Religion 27 

The Vale of Human Tears 28 

The World of Glorious Achievement 31 

The Promised Goal 32 

Failure and Success 33 

Filial Love and Duty 35 

Strength and Dignity 36 

The Sunshine of Life 39 

The Last Battle 40 

Soldier, Strong, in Battle Array 42 

The Philosophy of Life 45 

The Beautiful Isle of Somewhere 48 

The Beautiful Memories of the Long Ago .... 51 

Do It NoTP 52 

The Last Leaf on the Tree 55 



Page T}nTken 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



PAGE 



Portrait Frontispiece 

The Goal of Glorious Achievement 29 

Steps to the Promised Goal 32 

Portrait 37 

Soldier, Strong, m Battle Array 42 

Favorite Drives 43-53 

The Deep Sea of Doubt . 49 

The Mossy Marbles 55 



Page Fifteen 







ORNAMENTS'AND 
ILLUSTRATIONS 



Paoe Seventeen 







Page E'.ghlceii 



DEDICATED 

to 
Fond f/lemory or otner Days 



"iQlFT in the stilly night, 
■^^ Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
Fond memor}) brmgs the light 
Of other days around me: 
The smiles, the tears. 
Of boyhood's years. 
The words of love then spoken; 
The eyes that shone. 
Now dimmed and gone. 
The cheerful hearts now broken." 




Page Nineteen 



"Fond memory brings the light 
Of other days around me." 

Mothers' Day, 19. 

Mother of Mine 



This page to be used for memories, 
reminiscences or private messages. 

Page Twev.lM 



This page to be used for memories, 
reminiscences or private messages. 

Page Trvcnl\)-oiie 



a Cributc to a iHotber 



/'age Tlvculy-tliK 




Page Trvcnhi-foi 



FOREWORD 



g 



MONG human relations, the love of a good mother for 
■^ her offspring is, in a class by itself. In other words, 
it is unique, especially unique in fact. Unique because there 
is nothing else like it in this big world m which we all live 
and have our being. Especially unique because it is ever- 
trustful, ever-devoted, ever-forgiving, ever-tender, ever-un- 
changing, ever-enduring." — Johnson. 

"The friends who leave us do not 
feel the sorrow 

Of parting as we feel it, who must 
stay 

Lamenting day by day. 

And knowing when we wake upon 
the morrow, 

We shall not find in its accus- 
tomed place 

The one beloved face." 



Page Trvcnl\)-fivc 



MOTHER O' MINE 



X 



F I were hung on highest hill, 
S^ Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 
I know that your love would follow still. 

Mother o' mme, O mother o' mme ! 

If I were drown'd in deepest sea. 

Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 

I know that your tears would come down to me. 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! 

If I were lost of body and soul. 

Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine! 

I know that your prayers would make me whole, 
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine ! 

— Rud^ard Kipling. 



I 



o 



N being asked, "What is your religion?" 
he replied, 
"My mother is my religion, and my 

daily prayer 
Kipling's Mother o' Mine." 
What more of a religion does one 

really need, 
And where in the English language do 

we find 
Such few words that so fully measure 
A mother's love and her devotion? 



Page J'wcnlv-ieven 




II 



fTlS we saunter through this vale 

^g of tears, 

Strong, virile, debonau', crowned 

with victory. 
Fighting battles, crushing enemies, planning 

and constructing. 
Sometimes with success, other times 

with failure. 
Sometimes with loss, other times 

with gain. 
Obsessed we become, with a still 

stronger determination 
To repair that loss, to retrieve 

that failure. 
To regain not only that which 

is lost, 
But manifold additions, to be offered at the 

shrine of success and power. 







Mrmf ^v^^#^ 




Page Tiveiitxi-eighl 




Page Tiventyi-ntne 




i^ O such a man, no loss is quite enough 

SIS9 

^^ or too severe; 

But what, with will power and determina- 
tion, may be transformed 

Into an asset, overcome and converted. 

By the aid of that vision 

That inspires one to dare and to do 

Still greater and better things, 

In this world of glorious achievement. 



Page ThiTlxi-one 



IV 






C5 



O losses accustomed, knowing how 
transitory, only for 

An hour, a day, a week or a year, 
if so decreed. 

We accept with delight the challenge to 
overcome and conquer 

By pushmg the advancmg column 

One step forward towards the promised 
goal. 



m^^M 




Page Thirt^-tmo 







V 






HAT else in life is there, 
other than this? 

What a game it is, transforming failures 
into successes; 
Losses into gains, for the satisfaction it gives 
In pleasing the fancy of the one you love; 
To brighten the eyes of the one who 

idolizes you 
And thinks you wonderful, when, in reality, 

you know you are not. 
How in secret thought you glory in this 

adoration ; 
What a feeling of intense satisfaction and 

contentment 
Permeates your very being when you realize, 
That there is at least one, who has 

faith in you. 
One who would toil, slave and die that you 

may live. 
Mother of mine, O mother of mine ! 







Page Tluri\3-t}iree 



M» 




OU gloat in this devotion. 
It becomes of you a part, 
a parcel. 
Dare anyone rob you of that, 

which is yours? 
Yours, by right of natural possession? 
It is thought of this that makes you 

tremble ; 
That makes you choke with fear and 

dread ; 
That grips your very heart-strings; 
That makes you reach out for strength 

and courage. 
To fight the coming foe. 
It is then you ask yourself the 

question : 
"Without you, what will I be, 
What shall I do. 
Where shall I go, 
Mother of mine, O mother of 



<^^aZ^^ 



v-^.vT^^^^r 



Page Thiri\)-five 




VII 






OW beautiful she becomes as old m 
years she grows, 



In the strength, dignity and pride of a 

character 
Chastened and softened by the bitter losses of 

the past. 
Sweetened by the beautiful memories of 

the long ago. 
Closer and closer to you she clings. 
For, perhaps, you are the only one left 
To feed a hungry heart. 
To her, an idol, a wonder, a marvel 

you become. 
In whatever you say or do. 
In ever act and deed. 
Do not disillusion her, for you could not if 

you would. 
And you would not if you could. 
Mother of mine, O mother of mine ! 




. i_.a.2j«liii-.il3t-. 



Page Tbiriv-six 




Page Thirty-seven 







VIII 

ITH you always, you should keep 

her, if you can : 

Keep her young, old she will never 

be. 
If you help her just a little. 
Old in years, young in heart. 
Over-sensitive, a little out of tune, 

perhaps. 
With things as they are now. 
She may sometimes feel. This should 

not be. 
Young, spirited and companionable, she 

will ever be. 
If properly the sunshme of life is 

distributed, 
So she gets her share. 
A share to which she is justly 

entitled, 
One which to you she never 

denied. 
Whenever it was within her power 

to give. 
Mother of mine, O mother of mine! 






Page Thirl\)-nine 




IX 



© 






HE last stand on life's battlefield 

^^m is taken. 

Out of the world, a life dedicated and 
consecrated 

To the noble idea of filial love and duty 
is quietly passing. 

As in boyhood days, your hands in hers 
are taken. 

To give you strength and courage to with- 
stand the shock 

Of a loss that she knows must be yours, 
and yours alone to endure. 




Page Forlv 




Her thoughts, always of you, none of 

self. 
Your welfare, to her nothing else seems 

quite so important; 

"Carry out your plans. 
Do not give them up, 
I will always be with you. 
Someway — somehow. 
O for one more ride over 
Our favorite drive!" she pleads, 
"The one you and I so much 
enjoyed." 



Still guiding, still planning, for you and 

you alone. 
While the last drop of life-blood is slowly 

ebbing, 
Mother of mme, O mother of mine! 






^^^A^C^ 



■isS^^ 



Page Forl^-onc 




X 



•p> O soldier, strong, in battle array, 

In more heroic mould was ever cast. 
Than she who has fought, suffered and sacrificed ; 
Endured pangs, heartaches and distress. 
So strongly, so bravely, so silently. 
Mother of mine, O mother of mine! 








Page Fort^-lrvo 




Page Forly-Three 




XI 



11(1= -==•' 



OUR philosophy of hfe, 

Transforming failures into success, 
Losses into gains, 
What about it? 
What is to be done about this 

loss? 
To regain not only that which 
is lost, 

^ ,, But manifold additions? 

^%,^^'^yy^^ Where is thy boasted strength to surmount 
~ - /> ■'^^- - every difficulty? 

What about the many battles fought 

and won? 
What about the strength within you, to 
dare, to do? 



^^5—-^^^ 
W^^^I^^'3 










Page Forl^-five 



mm^ 




What a cold, hard, cynical, calculating 

philosophy. 
How much sordidness seems to be 

expressed 
In its creed, when you realize 
That everything you could ever 

hope 
To receive from such a philosophy 
Would be gladly given, this one loss to 

regain. 
Must such a loss be suffered, 
Such a penalty paid, 
To melt the coldness. 
To soften the hardness. 
To destroy the cynicism of such a 

worldly philosophy? 



PaSe ForM-sevcn 



GROPE and search in the deep 
Sea of Doubt, 
For the beautiful "Isle of Somewhere," 
For gems, such as these, there surely 

must be, 
A haven of rest, secure. 
A cruise to this isle, for a look or a 













Page Fort^-eight 




Page Forty-nine 



X 




XIII 



N the beautiful memories of the long 
ago, 



I live and dwell in thoughts 

of you. 
Our favorite drive, through wood and 

dale; 
Midst flowers and sunshine lonely I 

wander. 
Listening to the breezes gently 

whispering, 
To my anguished heart the sad 

refrain, 
Mother of mine, O mother of mine! 



.l^cF^ 



•<^O^^A' 




Page Fifty-one 




DO IT NOW 



X 






F some good thing for tomorrow 
^^ You are dreaming, do it noiv; 
From the future do not borrow; 
Frost soon gathers on the brow. 



Days for deeds are few, my brother, 
Then today fulfill thy vow. 

If you mean to help another. 
Do not dream it, do it noJp." 







Page Fifl\)-iwo 




Page Fifl\)-llirce 







HE mossy marbles rest 

On the lips he has pressed 
In their bloom, 
And the names he loved to hear 
Have been carved for many a year 
On the tomb, " 



Page Fifty -five 




Page Fif^-sevcn 




^^tv-*! 



Page Fifl\)-nitic 



-lAMMOND PRESS 
1. CONKEY COMPAh 
CHICAGO 



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immimm 

.0 015 973 819 A 



